The Little Merman
by bullets-embrace
Summary: Kurt Trident is desperate to be free, but how far will he go to be with his true love in a world that his father despises?   Klaine/The Little Mermaid crossover fic. Idea inspired by  artwork!   Rated T for now...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Kurt, should we really be doing this?"

The young merman huffed at Finn's interjection, bubbles surprising the small yellow fish as they burst under his stomach. He couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the aghast expression on his gilled friend's face.

"Lighten up, Finn. I'm always late, Daddy knows that," Kurt mused, brushing a chocolate brown strand of hair from his eyes, "Besides, since when were you one to lecture me about this kind of thing? Isn't that Mercedes' forte?"

Finn's eyes darted away from Kurt's nervously, flapping his own fins in an effort to somehow conjure up a feasible answer. He thought of the fiery red crab Mercedes and how she always knew exactly how to steer Kurt clear away from potential troubles like this, and tried his best to channel her powers of reasoning; if there was one thing Finn was not good at, it was forming coherent sentences under pressure. Or really, forming coherent sentences at all.

"I just don't... I don't want you... _us... _to get in trouble again... and since Mercedes isn't here, I kind of feel... y'know, responsible for you," Finn stammered, uttering the latter half of the sentence in a drowned out whisper

"Responsible?" Kurt scoffed, nudging Finn in the gills as he delivered his trademark Don't-Be-Such-A-Downer smirk and with a flip of his emerald green tail, sped towards the quietly decaying shipwreck that sat submerged almost two feet under the seabed.

Finn called out in protest, but Kurt had already swam through a particularly jagged and dauntingly dark crevice in the ship's flank. Reluctantly, he followed his friend into the murky depths of the shipwreck.

"Kurt," Finn ventured as he inched his way into the unwelcoming darkness, "Kurt I really _really _don't think we should be doing this..."

A giggly voice carried itself to him from somewhere within the pitch black space. "Hurry up, Finn! Find me!"

"F-find you?"

"It's a human game. You find me," Kurt's voice called in singsong tones, "And I hide from you. It'll be fun!"

Finn gulped. "It doesn't sound like fun to me." He'd expected an offhand reply from the headstrong merboy, but a deafening silence was all that echoed around him. "...Kurt? Kurt, c-can you hear me?"

Worry bubbled up inside the small fish's belly; if he lost Kurt- or worse, if Kurt got _harmed- _under his supervision... he gulped once more, shaking the thoughts away like a mouthful of bad kelp.

Suddenly something was gripping him by the fins, jiggling him side to side, tinkly laughter piercing the thick silence with an almost heart attack-inducing affect. Despite the all-consuming black, Finn could tell that giggle from oceans away: _Kurt._

The agitated fish spun himself around as fast as his recently released fins would take him. He glared at the grinning teenage merboy. "That was _not _fun. Not at _all."_

Kurt scoffed. "It wasn't that bad, you big baby."

"I'm not a baby!"

"You so are. Only babies get angry about human games."

Finn took a sharp intake of breath, clapping his larger fin over Kurt's mouth. Kurt's blue eyes widened in shock at the anxious expression of his scaly friend- he looked terrified.

"Don't say it out loud," He whispered.

Kurt pried Finn's slimy appendage off of his face. "Say what? Human?"

"Shh!"

A coy smile crept onto his face. "What's wrong with HUMANS, Finn?"

"Kurt, you know the rules, if your dad knew about your cave full of... their _stuff-"_

"Their stuff? You mean _HUMAN _stuff?"

"Kurt-!"

"HUMANS!" Kurt hollered, propelling himself upwards into the hull of the shipwreck to Finn's dismay, "HUMANS, HUMANS, HUMANS! One day, I'm going to marry a HUMAN, Finn-"

"Kurt, please-"

"And he's going to have HUMAN legs-"

"_Stop screaming!"_

"And HUMAN feet-"

"What's a feet? Kurt, just stop!-"

"And a HUMAN pe-"

"_KURT," _Finn was getting frustrated now, yellow scales turning redder every second as he wrapped a fin around Kurt's tail and tried without success to drag him from the ship. He seemed to be uncharacteristically over-enthused at the idea of meeting a human. Of course, the whole Kingdom knew of Kurt Trident's ridiculous fascination with the Surface World, and everyone knew of Kurt's desire to one day see humans walking on "Land" (wherever that was), but this was the first time he'd mentioned wanting to meet- and marry- a human. And that very idea terrified Finn even more than the prospect of King Trident's imminent rage when he realised Kurt was missing from breakfast.

Kurt simply laughed again at Finn's worrisome state, flicking Finn away with a strong _whoosh _of his tail before speeding deep into the ship's uncertain depths once more

"Catch me if you can, Finn! Or are you too much of a _baby?"_

Finn let out a shaky breath. "The King is going to_**kill**_ me".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Blaine Anderson stood at the hull of his new birthday-present slash product-of-bribery ship, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

"Isn't this great, Wes?" He roared, voice only just carried above the repetitive slapping of waves against the ship's wooden exterior, "The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face... a perfect day to be at sea!"

Wes blanched, turning away from his best friend and the sight of open ocean to do his best at repressing the urge to heave his breakfast into the frothy turquoise depths beneath them. "Oh yes. Delightful, really." Betraying himself helplessly, Wes let out a strained gargling noise and thrust his head over the the rails, retching pitifully.

Blaine smothered a snigger, running a hand through his short, windswept curls. Maybe he should've invited David to help christen the hulking giant of a ship on it's maiden voyage instead of Wes.

"Sorry," He said, clapping his friend on the back lightly, "I always forget you get seasick. But what did you expect when I asked you to come with me here? That I was taking you to the Maritime museum or somewhere equally as exciting?"

Wes spun himself around to face Blaine, glaring at him as he dragged his hand across his lips. "I thought by 'new boat', you meant a canoe or kayak or...something." Wes gulped, startled by a particularly sudden splash of water against the hem of his pants. "I wasn't expecting your father had bought you the damn Titantic."

"I think a canoe or kayak or anything that close to the actual ocean would have you quite literally crapping yourself if being _fifteen feet _above sea level is making you this ill."

"Shut up."

"Whatever you say, Spongestomach Squarebrain." Blaine laughed as he accentuated the remark with a jab to Wes's belly, a gesture which the shorter boy slapped away irritably.

"Are you saying I'm fat, Blaine Anderson?"

"No. I just-"

"Because I'll have you know that between Warblers council meetings and the mountain of homework doled out by Professor Finch last week, I barely eat more than my dog Wulfric."

"Wes, shut up a sec-"

"And you know that Wulfric eats about three or four tins of dogfood a day, and..." Wes paused, brow crinkling as he considered his words. Blaine watched, amused. "Wait, scratch that, Wulfric probably eats ten times his weight in dogfood per day and I certainly do not."

"Yes, Wes," Blaine nodded, large brown eyes widening in mock innocence as he steadied himself against the growing tide, "I sincerely hope you don't eat ten times your dog's weight in meaty goo because otherwise I would have to terminate this friendship immediately."

Even strait-laced Wes couldn't suppress a small grin as he gingerly lowered himself onto one of the great many cushioned benches that studded the sides of the ship deck. "So what _did _you mean by that totally uncalled for jibe then?"

Now it was Blaine's turn to look uncomfortable, once again ruffling his hand through his hair. It was almost a routine nervous tic for Blaine to do so. "I meant it like because you were throwing up. As in, stomach like a sponge. Squeezing out all the ickiness or whatever," Blaine explained sketchily as he sat down beside Wes. He sighed. "It made more sense in my head."

Wes snorted. "Everything makes sense in your head. Even when there is no proof as to the matter."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Mr. 'I'll-believe-it-until-I-see-reason-not-to'. I cannot believe you actually _argued _with Jennings over something as pointlessly trivial as _mermaid mythology_. Of all things." Wes shook his head, as if replaying the scandalous scene of Blaine challenging their Civics teacher that morning.

Blaine shrugged, looking out at the ocean and smiling to himself. "You've heard all the witness stories, Wes, they sound pretty legitimate to me. Who's to say all those people are wrong and Professor Jennings is right? That asshole probably couldn't tell a mermaid from a freaking bat if one leapt out of the sea and flopped around in his lap for a while. I just don't see the point in completely ruling out the possibility until there's real proof."

"But there isn't any real proof that they _do _exist either, Blaine," Wes reminded his impassioned best friend, only to have the interjection waved away. Blaine still had his eyes focused on the rise and fall of the dark blue waves, fading sunlight casting shadows across his face and giving the shorter soloist a somewhat appropriately mysterious appearance. He'd never seen Blaine concentrating harder on anything in his life- unless he counted Blaine's religious studying of sheet music before every major competition.

There was a small silence before Blaine spoke again. "So I like to believe mermaids exist. So what? I like the thought of it, you know? The thought of other people existing but not being quite the same. There's something I find... I don't know, _beautiful_ about mermaids. The tail instead of legs, how graceful they'd look in the water with their hair cascading about them, how their skin is meant to be as soft as the powder-fine sand. It's poetic. It's romantic, even. Why shouldn't I believe it?"

Wes nodded wordlessly. He knew better than to get in the way of one of Blaine's deep procrastination sessions, the wind calming down slightly and the ship only gently bobbing upon waves now.

"Looks like a storm's brewing," Wes muttered when he saw a dark grey cloud slither across the otherwise dusky-pink skyline, a dismal charcoal smear.

Blaine dragged his eyes from whichever point on the horizon had affixed his gaze. "Looks like it is."

Wes's stomach flipped as he tried to push away images of their ship getting wrecked in a storm. "Maybe we should head back to shore now? To avoid it?"

Blaine stood up and walked to the very front of the deck, leaning against the mast and stroking the image of the wooden merman carved into the wood. He was still deep in thought. "I'm sure it's nothing, Wes. A single black cloud doesn't necessarily mean a storm's coming."

"Blaine, I really don't mean to sound awfully ungrateful and I don't mean to sound like some sort of villainously bad friend but I really think it is in the very best interests of both our persons to return to shore _now_ before we are swallowed up by a midsummer monsoon, which would be highly detrimental to the sanity of both yourself and I in this matter as I do not recollect you ever stating to having a desire to perish at sea," Wes announced loudly, words almost jumbling into one another incoherently as he anxiously watched his best friend's grip on the mast only tighten despite the increasingly lax tide.

"Wes," Blaine began, back still facing the cowering Senior Warbler, "Has anyone ever told you that you'd been going to Dalton Academy for far too long? You're beginning to sound like one of those lit teachers who feel a need to make every sentence sound like a passage from Shakespeare. Besides, look how calm the ocean is," Blaine breathed, once again taking a deep breath of the salty air.

"I believe people call it, 'the calm before the storm' for a reason, Blaine."

But Blaine merely smiled. A smile that Wes didn't see, but Blaine was sure someone out _there_ did. Somewhere out on that vast seascape. Try as he might, Blaine couldn't shake this feeling that something incredible was about to happen to him, and as much as he loved Wes, he wasn't going to let his best friend's untimely paranoia get in the way of it.

"Just give it a few more minutes, man. Please?"

Wes let out a shaky sigh before balling his fists and setting his mouth in a tight-lipped smile. He wondered how he'd ever let himself become such good friends with a guy that was such a ridiculously hopeless romantic. It was no wonder Blaine Anderson had never had a proper boyfriend, despite how many gay kids had transferred to Dalton for its firm no-bullying policy; Blaine, the king Disney film buff, refused to settle for anyone but Prince Charming.

"Okay," Wes muttered, massaging his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut to shield out the image of how deep and murky the ocean looked in the increasingly darkening sky, "A few more minutes."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Kurt shut his eyes and flipped his fins harder, not caring where he was going. He just had to get away. He could barely hear the anxious protests of Finn, who was speeding along precariously beside him, stream of bubbles pouring out of his gills as he tried in earnest to keep up with Kurt's pace.

He was swimming _so _fast.

But he couldn't help it. Biting his lip, he propelled himself through the water as fast as he could and did his best to drown out any thoughts of what his father would do or say when (or if) he found him. Kurt thought maybe he shouldn't have argued with him, shouldn't have protected his collection with such vehemence that his father thought it necessary to simply smash the entire alcove to pieces, pretty glass pots that shone in the sparkling light from the surface and glittering sand-roughed gems reduced to mere glittering shards. He felt his eyes sting as usual, as they did whenever he was painfully upset, as if the water was attacking him from the eyeballs first. Wincing, he brought up a clenched fist to press at each offending eye and zoomed ahead like a coral fish escaping a feral predator.

"Kurt, you're only making it worse," Finn cried desperately, "He's only getting madder by the minute. I can feel it. You _know _what he does what he's mad, Kurt, he'll-"

"He can make all the storms he likes because with or without a raging current, I'm _not _going back there," Kurt snapped in reply. He forced himself to banish all thoughts of what his dear father was capable of, tried to wash away any memory of how that sunken shipwreck came to meet its final resting place in the murky ocean depths.

His eyes stung once more, frustratingly.

He knew he couldn't outrun his father forever. As much as Burt Trident was a caring and essentially excellent father when he wanted to be, he was not the most patient or long-fused of Merfolk. Sometimes he feared too much for Kurt. He feared that Kurt's desire to see the Surface and the barbaric humans who roamed it would be the death of him, let alone the fact that he'd never expressed a desire to find a beautiful mermaid wife.

Not that he had an issue with Kurt's... _preferences, _as it was.

The King was simply a natural worrier.

And who wouldn't worry about a son whose features were both gentle yet angular, whose wide, inquisitive blue eyes brimmed with so many unanswerable questions, whose hair was a rich coral brown and soft enough to make even the most beautiful of mermaids weep with envy.

He was only trying to protect him

And Kurt knew he was only trying to protect him, shield him from the cruelties that lay beyond Atlantica's majestic gates, but that was it.

That was it _exactly._

Ever since Kurt could remember he's wanted to visit the Surface. Ever since that day when he saw a human so close, so close he could've touched the strange tubes protruding from his mouth and back, could've lightly prodded his long black fins that were seemingly loosely attached to his tail.

His tail which was split,

Of course, Kurt's infantile mind had not yet learnt that humans had strange appendages called _"legsan feet"_ where their tails should be, but after meeting the acquaintance of one Jacob the seagull he had learnt much more about Landfolk.

Or as Jacob called them, humans.

Kurt did his best to visit Jacob whenever he could at his stony perch on the surface, often dragging Finn with him- out of habit, of course. Finn was supposed to act as King Trident's eyes and ears when he wasn't around, keeping him out of trouble, but Kurt was beginning to enjoy his company as the brother he never had. Of course, his bossy older sister Rachel had gone to father almost immediately, and so Mercedes was reinstated as Kurt's "babysitter" of sorts.

But she wasn't so bad herself.

_Oh sweet holy herring, what if she's following me too?_

Kurt suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, Finn zooming ahead slightly before grinding to a halt and retracing his strokes back to Kurt. Kurt was squinting at the angry trail of bubbles he'd left behind, bringing his fins up to slap away the tiny silvery orbs in annoyance as he tried in vain to see if Mercedes was hot on their trail.

Which, thankfully, she wasn't.

Kurt allowed a smirk of satisfaction to tug at his lips before suddenly realising how dark the water had become, murky gloom setting in as if it were night time on the Surface already. But that was impossible. He was sure of it.

"Finn," Kurt ventured, sidling closer to his quaking fish friend, "Is it just me or is it getting dark kind of really really way too early?"

Finn gulped, convulsing in what Kurt perceived to be an equivalent version of a nod as he pressed his slippery body into Kurt's shoulder. Finn hated the ocean at night.

Kurt instantly snapped his head up to look at the surface. Blurry as the view was, he could always see golden light streaming through the water almost every day (unless it was, as Jacob dubbed it, "clowd-ee").

Kurt opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a single syllable he found himself swept away from Finn by a viciously strong current.

"Finn!"

Before the fish knew what was happening, he was being pushed and pulled so fast that he was too disoriented to know what was happening. Alarmed at the sudden loss of Finn from his line of sight and fighting without prevail to break free of the tide, Kurt's stomach seemed to be lodged firmly in his throat. Grunting in desperation one last time, vision obscured by a flurry of bubbles, Kurt let himself go limp with defeat. He felt like such an idiot. What had his father said only that morning?

"_I only want to protect you, Kurt. You don't know what's out there, you don't know what it's like. And I beg you not to try and find out."_

But of course, Kurt hadn't listened. Stubborn, headstrong and blinded by the fascination of humans, Kurt had ignored everything his father had told him and now here he was about to get ripped apart in a nasty current and Finn was probably off somewhere getting similarly thrashed to the point of nausea and-

Suddenly, everything was still. Kurt hadn't realised, but at some point his eyes has glued themselves tightly shut, his arms wrapped protectively around his lean body like a feeble shield, slippery tail curled up beneath him. He let himself hover in the calm water for a moment, stunned by how quickly the violent motions has stopped, and then slowly, very slowly, cracked an eye open.

And then he gasped.

He was so close to the Surface. Inches away, in fact. Looking up through the crystalline water, he could see strange white and grey shapes blooming against a murky backdrop, a strange and slightly blurred circle of yellow peeping through the dull plumes.

It was all there on the Surface. It was all there within touching distance.

He'd been up there before, of course, but that was only during the times when it was bright and everything was clear and the colour of the now dreary backdrop (which Jacob proudly called "the sky") was a pale blue. But this? This was different.

Biting his lip, Kurt reached out with a finger, going up and up, trembling slightly as he breached the thin barrier of water and... well, whatever that cool, airy substance was up on the Surface. The sensation sent small tingles down Kurt's spine, thrilling him in a new and exciting way. He got the strongest urge to launch himself up, launch his entire body up to the surface and feel those tingles all over his face and chest and arms and tail. He ached for it.

So he did it.

His head broke free of the water first, sending droplets of salt water in all directions. Kurt's mouth opened of its own accord and he breathed in, gulping it down, feeling the icy sensation flood through his body. Water settled in the various hollows and contours of his cheeks, his collar bone, his nose, sticking to his lashes and framing the world with a dewy wet border. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut as a small giggle broke free. Instantly he clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes widening and darting about- everything sounded so much louder on the Surface- but he couldn't stifle a smile. It was magical for Kurt.

"Help- help me-"

The small, tired voice carried to Kurt's ears from far behind him. Instantly his hands flew away from his mouth and he ducked back underwater. He didn't recognise the owner of the voice, and the stories of Mermaid catchers had never sounded particularly enjoyable. But then he saw a murky shadow only a few feet away. Two long, slightly bent in the middle objects, and a darker looking shape just above them. Kurt was fascinated. Cautiously, he swam towards the figure, keeping his tail strokes small as to not make too many bubbles. Suddenly the two thick objects began moving, like arms do when you swim except somehow more gently, more controlled. Kurt wondered what it was.

And that's when Kurt Trident snuck back up to the surface to stick his head out and get a proper view, paddling gently forward as the figure gained discernible features

And that's when Kurt Trident saw him for the first time, arm strewn over a badly splintered piece of wood, shirt torn around his arms, eyes closed.

Kurt had never seen anyone more beautiful. His skin was slightly darker than his own, curly hair framing his angular face. It was like someone had taken one of those perfectly carved statues of gorgeous men and given it life, only this was even better because Kurt could see his shoulders rising and falling with breath meaning that _he was actually real_. There was someone else next to him, lying flat on his back on another slab of wood. Breath hitched in Kurt's throat as he took in the two long arm-like appendages situated where Kurt's tail was. Breathing out a stream of bubbles in shocked realisation, a tiny squeal making its way out too, Kurt ducked back underwater to look at the the dangling objects coming from the one who was half in the water. Then, Kurt zoomed back up to the Surface, heart thudding. Legs. Those were legs. And only one thing Kurt knew of, aside from crabs and lobsters, had legs.

_Humans._

"Is... is anyone out there?"

Kurt wanted to call out, to make himself heard. He was only a foot away, half a foot even, and he really did want to speak to them. But the man looked like he was in pain, face contorted with a worrying mix of confusion and panic. The other man looked like he was asleep, but he was wearing a similar expression.

Kurt deliberated for a moment- was it safe to approach them?- but when he heard a low, guttural moan of discomfort issuing from the beautiful one with the dark curly hair, he found himself swimming towards him completely not of his own decision. Now he was right next to him, he was awestruck by the fact that he looked even more amazing up close. Thick lashes fanned around his closed eyes and soft pink lips parted, taking ragged breaths, Kurt had the overpowering urge to reach out and touch his cheek. Instead he settled for grasping his hand gently, marveling at how beautiful the delicate contrast between their skin tones was. A smile curled on Kurt's lips as he fondly stroked this fingers beneath his own before gripping the sleeping boy's hand tighter, solidifying his hold to making sure he would not fall off the plank.

"Hold on," Kurt whispered, reluctantly bringing his hand away, "I'll help you get back."

Once he'd grabbed ahold of the sleeping human boy as well, tying the two planks of wood together with a stray length of frayed rope, Kurt proceeded to drag them to the closest beach he knew. His brain was abuzz, fizzing over with excitement and curiosity, and whenever he stole a look back at the boy with the curly hair he felt his stomach flip flop. The sensation zapped through his body, head to fins, and it quite literally made him dizzy with happiness.

By the time he'd finally dragged the two boys up to a beach, yanking them up the soft sandy shore with difficulty, dawn was already breaking. He stopped struggling with the sand to turn and, shielding his eyes from the harsh light, finally see what that bright mass he'd seen through the ocean really was. It hurt to look for too long, but Kurt was disappointed to realise that it was really just a huge burning ball of fire. Like in paintings he'd found in old shipwrecks, except its rays were far too bright to stare in its direction for too long without being temporarily blinded.

"Here you go," Kurt mused, rolling the sleeping boy off of his plank. It took a few shoves, as Kurt's muscles ached from dragging them through the ocean all night, but eventually the boy was lying face up on the sparkling sand. Weirdly, he didn't move except to roll onto his side. Kurt simply shrugged and turned to gaze at the curly-haired boy.

"Wow," he breathed, brushing a stray curl from the boy's forehead, allowing himself the momentary pleasure of running his fingers over his eyelids and down those perfect cheeks. The boy seemed to shudder, nuzzling into Kurt's touch. He was truly magnificent.

"_What would I give to live where you are?"_

"_What would I pay to stay here beside you?"_

Kurt settled himself onto his elbows, propping himself up so that he could comfortably map his face with his hands, committing it to memory. Tail bending up to soak up the ball of fire's soothing warmth, Kurt was content to lay there beside him, singing and touching him forever.

He took the boy's face in both hands, running his thumbs softly across his hairline, and sighed.

"_What would I do to see you, smiling at me?"_

As if hearing his words, the boy's eyes fluttered open. Kurt had never seen such a colour before; hazel, with a touch more green than brown, dusted with specks of perfect gold. He gazed up at Kurt as if in awe, and Kurt was sure he was not controlling his own motions when he grabbed one of the boy's hands and pressed it against his own cheek, as if to say, _Here I am. I'm real too._

"_Where would we walk?_

_Where would we run?_

_If we could stay all day in the sun_

_Just you and me_

_And I could be _

_Part of your world."_

"B-Blaine?"

Kurt pulled his hand away from the boy's cheek, causing him to do the same, and fixed his eyes on the slumbering boy. Or rather, the once slumbering boy who was now reclining on his elbows and staring wide-eyed at Kurt in shock. Kurt furrowed his brow and was about to pose a question along the lines of, _What are you staring at? I just saved your life you idiot, _but he decided against it when he remembered ah, his tail.

His stupid, stupid tail.

Groaning with equal parts irritation and reluctance, pausing only to glance down at the beautiful curly-haired boy who now had a hand extended towards Kurt's face, Kurt mouthed a quick goodbye before frantically clawing his way back down the beach and plummeting into the water. It felt cooler than usual, wetter too, and Kurt felt his eyes sting as he remembered the look on the human boy's face. As if he was looking at Kurt and seeing something... something beautiful. Something as beautiful as what Kurt had been seeing. And that thought gave Kurt that fuzzy flip-flopping feeling in his abdomen.

He suddenly looked back up at the surface, still so very close, and decided against his better judgement to breach it for one last look.

He was close enough to see that the other boy was on his feet, but was far out at sea enough, hidden safely enough next to a crumbling rock, to be seen by him. The curly-haired boy- _Blaine? What a fantastic name!- _ was still lying down on the sand where Kurt had set him, and it looked like his arm was still partially reaching out. The sight made Kurt's heart ache a little.

Kurt gripped the sharp barnacles on the rock so tightly, his fingers were bleeding. His eyes were stinging again, except this time he saw water well up underneath them and felt the warm drops run down his cheeks. He reached up to touch them, bewildered, and tasted the water on his tongue. Salty. He'd never leaked salt water before. Kurt wondered if it was a human thing.

"_I don't know when,_

_I don't know how_

_But I know something's starting right now..."_

Watching the other boy helping Blaine to his feet, watching them walk slowly off of the beach, Kurt felt a whole new emotion swell in his chest. He didn't know how to describe it in so many words, didn't know if it even had a name. But all Kurt knew was that he wanted Blaine. He wanted to be with Blaine and to see Blaine's smile again and to be _like _Blaine.

Kurt had decided.

He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his blood-free fingers and, watching the two boys stride away, smiled.

"_Watch and you'll see_

_Someday I'll be_

_Part of your world."_


End file.
